Lords of Time and Sea
by kyrenora
Summary: Jenny's search for her father, The Doctor, has led her to 18th century Earth. Stranded with a broken-down ship, she's picked up by a ship full of pirates, including Captain Hook, a man with a mysterious past. Could he know more about her father than he's letting on?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I have to thank my husband for all his input on this one. He's been a truly amazing sounding board, and even gave me the original inspiration for this story. I don't want to give too much away yet, but this one is going to be a lot of fun.**

* * *

 _She was regenerating!_

Or was it "he?" No, still a "she." There was something else too. What was it? Regenerating and... Ah, yes. Crashing. That was it. Regenerating and crashing.

She gripped the controls in her glowing palms and yanked back as hard as she could. The handles slammed back into her new chest. Whatever. It wasn't like she could get a bruise right now. _But I could die,_ she thought. Then it would all be over. For real this time.

The interior of the craft grew hot, and the lights on the control panels around her began to explode. She must be passing through the atmosphere now. She had managed to get herself off of the moon, at least. If she could get herself down into that ocean there and survive, then she was home free. She was clever, like her dad. She would figure something out. The shell of the small vessel dampened the sound of the splash, but when she felt the sudden deceleration, she knew she had hit the water, and she breathed a sigh of relief before she looked herself over.

She wished she had a mirror as she ran her two hands over two legs, feminine hips, a little waist. She still wore her combat boots, black pants, and olive green shirt. The t-shirt fit a little tighter now across her chest. She rolled her eyes. That was going to be a burden. Curling down over her shoulder, was that–?

Yes it was! She had red hair! In excitement, she whipped the elastic from the back of her head, releasing her ponytail and watching the strands tumble down. She laughed out loud. She had been told that her that her father had always wanted to be a ginger. She hoped she could find him now – wouldn't he be jealous? She examined her bare arms, noticing a few of the trademark freckles.

She pressed her fingers to her face. Her brows were thick, and her cheekbones high. She felt a small, pointed chin, full lips, a tiny button nose, and wide-set eyes. She wondered what color her eyes were going to be when she finally got to see her reflection.

Her ship bobbed beneath the waves and began to ascend. Everyone who knew about him said that her father liked this planet. _Earth_ they had called it. As soon as she'd gotten her greedy hands on a vortex manipulator, she'd strapped it to her wrist and was plugging in the coordinates. Maybe she should have tested it first. She'd missed her destination by almost 400,000 kilometers. She had no idea what time it was, either. She could be in any century.

The vortex manipulator was sparking and hissing. She tore it off her skin before it burned her. Clearly, it wasn't going to be taking her anywhere else. It was just useless junk now. Perhaps she could salvage some of its parts, but she had more pressing concerns at the moment. As soon as she felt the gentle rocking of the waves beneath her feet, she used her weight to rotate the spherical shuttle craft until the hatch was pointing up. Carefully, she opened it and poked her head outside.

There was nothing as far as she could see but wind and water and sky. The sun beat down on her through scant clouds and gleamed off the metal of her ship. She squinted, hoping that the glaring light was all that was preventing her from seeing the shore. Maybe she could swim for it. Her ship was made for piloting the vacuum of space. It wasn't a rowboat. If she had a ship like her father's, then she was sure she'd be able to find an oar somewhere, but she had never been lucky enough to encounter another TARDIS. She just had this tiny pod, which fit only her and some supplies.

"Bloody hell."

She had neglected to look behind her as she'd scanned her environment. She whipped around, nearly upsetting her ship. What she saw was a massive wooden beast, painted a dark but shining blue, broken up by bright yellow lines. It floated on top of the water, and had trees growing out of its back that were covered with cloth sheets. No, that wasn't it. She knew what this was. It was a sail boat. Those weren't trees, they were masts.

On the back of it stood a tall, dark-haired man wearing a long leather coat. She figured that's where the voice had come from. Ducking down, she found her blaster and aimed it at his chest, right at his one human heart, where the buttons of his shirt were undone. Her father may disapprove of guns, but once, they were all she had known, and her father wasn't here right now. "Who are you?" She demanded.

"I should ask you the same." He nodded toward her hand in gesture. "What is that you're holding?"

"It's-" She paused, looking down at her hand to make sure she'd grabbed the right object in her haste. "It's a gun. Don't you know what a gun is?"

"What? Like this?" His right arm reached across his hips and into a holster before she realized what he was doing. He pulled out something long and wooden with some metal bits on it. He cocked the weapon and pointed it at her face. It was shaped like a gun, but looked like a toy compared to her heavy technology.

To demonstrate her superior force, she located the smallest sail. Her arm flicked up to aim at it, and her shot left a hole roughly a meter wide. She smirked at the man as he lowered his arm. Other heads began to poke up over the railing to see what had happened, but he dropped his wooden gun and raised his hands at his sides as if in surrender. That's when she noticed his other hand, or lack thereof. Instead of fingers, at the end of the cuff on his left wrist was a shining metal hook. She watched his throat work as he swallowed.

She took a deep breath and remembered what her father had taught her. "Relax," she told the man, pointing her gun down, but not letting go of it. "I'm not going to hurt you. What year is this?"

Hesitantly, he lowered his arms. "Seventeen hundred and fifteen. I would ask how much you imbibed if I hadn't watched you fall from the sky with my own eyes. Who are you, lass?"

"I'm not really sure yet." She admitted. They had called her Jenny once, but all the best Time Lords she'd heard stories about had special names that they shared with the world, keeping their true names hidden. "They call me The Pirate." She tried. After all, she'd stolen a ship and swindled her way around the galaxy before she'd landed here.

He laughed. Apparently she wasn't a very good liar. "No," he told her. "I don't think they do. I know a pirate when I see one, but I've never seen anything quite like you."

She searched the horizon again, and realized that the men on this boat were the only help that she was likely to get. "Can you pull my ship up onto your boat? Or will that make it sink?" She asked. Maybe it could still be fixed, but she'd need to get it out of the water first. The deck he stood on seemed like a large enough surface for her to work on her shuttle craft.

He bristled. "I think if anyone has the _ship,_ it's me, love. And aye, I believe we can haul you and your vessel aboard without risk." He called for the men around him to lower ropes. The men were skilled with them, and soon they were pulling her and her shuttle craft up with relative ease. Their muscles bulged, but they shouted out their rhythm and had her up in a matter of moments.

She fidgeted with the weapon at her side, surrounded and uncomfortable. "Now," she began, hoping that if she kept herself talking, a plan would form. "I'll need a screwdriver. You wouldn't have anything of a sonic variety, would you? No, of course you wouldn't."

The man's dark brows raised. "I'm Captain Hook." He told her. "What's your name?"

"Jenny," she conceded at last, getting a better look at him. His eyes were blue as ice. They were hypnotizing. She almost didn't see the circular tattoo on his neck – the snake that was swallowing the end of its own tail.

"And what are you doing in the middle of the ocean?"

She nibbled on her lower lip before deciding to give the simple explanation. "I'm looking for my father."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I don't know how many of you are enjoying this concept, or even if you've figured out what's going on yet. I do know that I'm having a lot of fun with it, and it's only going to get better. This is pretty much my new headcanon. I hope you guys will stick with me on this adventure, and please, let me know what you think!**

* * *

Good or bad, his dreams were always vivid. He dreamed of other worlds with oceans of their own, of beings unknown to any human alive, of metal men and creatures made of mist. In his nightly visions, he never wore his own body. There were several others his mind slipped inside of instead. One was burly. Another was small. There was light hair, dark hair. He was even a woman sometimes. His tattoo grew and shrank. It moved around on his skin. Some nights it was brightly colored, and others it was a mere black outline, but always the same shape – the Ouroboros.

The one other constant was his ship – his beautiful ship. There was never anyone else aboard, but wherever he was, the _Jolly Roger_ was always there. Sometimes she had a different name, one he could never remember upon waking. She was his one true love, and he was never far from her. She was his freedom. Whether they sailed past mountainous obsidian shores on mercury waves, surfed the plasma of a dying star, or anchored in ancient Assyria, they did it all together, just the two of them. Their mission was always the same, as well. He was a pirate, a rover, a buccaneer, a privateer, a _corsair._

He traveled where and when he pleased, conning and cheating his way through the many worlds he visited, or stealing if it was more convenient. He dreamed of elaborate plots and heists, taking weapons and devices beyond ordinary imagination, and laughing all the while, often with a drink in hand.

Some of the dreams were pleasant romps. Others haunted him even during his waking hours. Tonight, once again, it was the darkest vision of them all. They had taken his ship. He had fought as hard as he could, with every oversized muscle in his towering body, but it wasn't enough. They had managed to restrain him. The walls had spoken to him in that monotonous voice, reminding him that no one would hear his pleas.

They hadn't killed him when they'd removed his tattooed left arm. He could hear the flesh ripping and the tendons snapping. They hadn't killed him when they'd opened him up. He could feel the tearing of the dull blade. They hadn't killed him after they'd taken out his organs and bones. He could see them, _smell_ _them_ sitting there on the dirty tray.

They hadn't killed him.

He woke in a cold sweat, panting. He looked down at himself, seeing the dark hair on his pale chest, two legs, two arms, but one hand. "Another dream," he muttered to himself, remembering where and who he was. He was Killian Jones; he was Captain Hook. This was his real body. The one that had been torn apart was no more than a nighttime phantasm. Grumbling, he found the hook he wore on his shortened left arm and yanked it into place.

He located the lantern by the moonlight streaming into his cabin. Once he had it lit, he carried it to the table in the center of the room. His hand closed around the leather binding of his captain's log, and he flipped the pages open to the next empty sheet. Opening the inkwell and dipping his quill inside, he dutifully began to write the events that had transpired in his sleep. He left out the gruesome details. He'd written it all down before. It did not bear repeating.

Leaning back in his chair after he'd penned the final word, he twirled the quill between his fingers, contemplating the strange woman he'd taken aboard. He'd seen a raging ball of fire plummet from the skies and into the waves in the middle of the ocean, plunging below before rising again to the surface as a singed metal object. Then it had rolled, and opened, and then she had emerged, the intriguing specimen that she was.

Everything about her was foreign, from her accent to her dress. What kind of maid wore trousers and carried a weapon that could make a smoldering ruin of his sail in a single blast?And _where_ had she come from? That had not been fully explained. She had dodged nearly all of his questions.

The words she had spoken had fascinated him, however. She'd excitedly told the tale of adventure, and exploration, and so much running. It was like she was reading him the story of his life, and of his dreams. He was tempted to offer her aid, to join her on her quest, but it seemed hopeless, and it wouldn't further his cause. She couldn't offer him the answers that he needed while she was seeking her own. He could not allow himself to become distracted from his revenge.

The ship's cat jumped up onto his lap, pulling him from his thoughts. His door had been shut all night, and he was sure the cat hadn't been in the cabin when he'd fallen asleep, but the unexplained appearances of the animal had long since ceased to surprise him. It was a little thing, all black, with emerald eyes and extra toes on its front feet. Killian dropped the quill and began to absentmindedly stroke the fur on the feline's brow. It began to purr. The sound and the vibration calmed him, and he felt the dread of the dream melting away.

It was strange. He never dreamed about the day he'd actually lost his hand, but he had visions of another man having an entire arm taken from the shoulder. He never dreamed of his brother or Milah. Instead, he saw the haunted memories of strangers at night. Sometimes he wondered whose nightmares he was watching. Most of the time he knew that the scenes were no more than random images sewn together by mere chance. There were no morals to these stories.

The cat rolled over to expose its belly. Killian smiled as he gave it a scratch. Out the window, he saw the first hints of the approaching dawn. He wasn't going to be getting any more sleep tonight, it would seem. As soon as he stopped petting the cat, it leaped to the floor, leaving him free to dress. He snatched up his heavy, black leather pants and tugged them onto his legs, lacing them up loosely with his one hand. He donned a black shirt beneath a crimson vest, buttoned up only halfway. Over it all, he slipped on his long leather coat. He lined kohl around his eyes to protect them from the sun.

He scrubbed at his face with his hand before shoving his hair into place and climbing the ladder to the deck above. A few of the brightest stars still dotted the purple skies, but the sun was beginning to outshine the smaller ones nearest the horizon. The wind caressed his face as he savored the scent of the salty air. Relieving his first mate from the helm, he looped his hook around one of the spokes of the wheel. The first rays of the sun pierced the skies.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I did a search, and it turns out this is the only story that features both Jenny and the Corsair. It's also the only crossover story with the Corsair. I'm a little surprised. I guess they are more obscure characters, but they're both extremely fun to work with.**

The sun's rays warmed her face, shining onto her eyelids. Jenny rolled over in the bed. As a soldier, she was supposed to be an early riser, but she had been rebelling against a lot of her training, and few acts of defiance were so easy or felt so good as extra rest. It was so nice to sleep on a real bed again, even if the motion of it left her a little queasy. She had been surprised when the captain had escorted her to a vacant cabin. Apparently his boat was bigger than it looked.

 _His ship_ , she reminded herself. He got upset when she called it a boat.

She pressed her face down into the plush feather pillow, feeling its cover rub smoothly against her nose. A passing thought told her that she could sleep all day, but her stomach was turning again. It was somewhat better once she sat up, but not by much. A knock sounded at her door, and her programming caused her hand to automatically reach for her gun. Mentally scolding herself, she shook her head, pulling her hand back toward her stomach.

"Come in," she called sweetly.

The door swung open noiselessly, and a young boy entered, bearing a tray. His clothes were dirty and too big for him. His arms and legs were remarkably thin, and his curly hair hung down in mats. He set the tray down on the foot of her bed and she eyed its contents. Clearly, it was meant to be some kind of nourishment, but Jenny couldn't recognize it.

"Thank you, but I couldn't possibly eat anything. Do you have any coffee?" She asked.

"Coffee, my lady?" The boy stared at her skeptically for a moment. When he realized that she wasn't kidding, he shook his head. "No. There's no coffee on board."

Jenny sighed. It was a luxury that she hadn't been able to find everywhere on her travels, but caffeine always made her mornings easier when she could get her hands on it. She had heard that some parts of Earth were famed for their coffee, but apparently a random ship in the middle of the ocean was not one such place. "Well, thank you anyway."

"Are you ill?" His brows furrowed. "Why can't you eat?"

She hesitated, not sure how much she could say that he would comprehend. "When I travel, my ship doesn't move like this one does. It just makes me feel a little bit off."

A sheepish smile crossed his face. "Ah, seasick. I got some o' that when I first came aboard some months back. Go up above," he recommended. "The air will do you good."

She took his advice, and he was right. As soon as she inhaled the aroma of the salt on the wind, her head began to clear and her insides settled. Her balance still wasn't what it should be, but as long as she kept her feet spread wide and took careful strides, she didn't trip or fall. Her hair danced and whipped around her face and shoulders as the wind raked through it.

She turned her head slowly, taking in the full scope of the ship. There were men moving about all around her. Some even climbed overhead on lengths of rope, and tip-toeing along the beams that held up the sails. It was incredible to watch. A large enough wave could send them all flying into the ocean, but none seemed to falter in their confidence.

The calm amidst the bustle was the captain at the helm. He stood solidly, turning the wheel only the barest amount needed to keep the ship on its course. Jenny made her way over to him, her boots thumping on the deck with every stride. The captain didn't even spare her a glance as she approached. His gaze remained trained on the horizon over the top of her head.

She had to shield her eyes from the sun as she tried to see his face. He was quite tall. Or maybe her new incarnation was short. Either way, her full height only reached up to his collarbone. The platform he stood on was a good two hands higher than the main deck, as well. Altogether, he towered above her.

"What do you do all day?" She asked as she looked up at the underside of his sharp, bearded jaw, her hands resting on her hips.

"I beg your pardon?" He still did not turn his attention toward her. Jenny tried looking out past the front of the ship, but she couldn't tell what he was staring at. The blue seemed to go on forever, light and dusted with clouds up above, and darker with rolling ridges down below, just a faint line separating the two.

"Do you just stand there all day looking at the same thing?" She started to wish she had a coat to warm her arms in, but there hadn't been space for luggage in her small shuttle craft. It wasn't like her father's TARDIS where he could spare entire rooms to serve as closets. Jenny had left Messaline with just her blaster and the clothes on her back. She hadn't acquired much in the way of possessions since then, either.

"Of course not. The sea is never the same, love. She changes moment by moment. There's always something new out there to witness. In fact–" His hand reached inside his coat while his hook guided the wheel. When it came back into view, he held what looked like a small telescope. "Take this, and look out in that direction." He pointed the device toward a spot in the water off toward the side as he handed it to her.

She put the small end to her eye and directed it in the area he'd indicated. Through the lens, she saw long, finned creatures with rounded foreheads and wide, sharp-toothed smiles. They were a silvery blue and they leapt and spun above the waves like acrobats. "They're amazing!" She gasped. "What are they?"

Hook chuckled. "Never seen a dolphin before, have you? You must not have spent much time in these waters."

"No, this is my very first time here." She could not take her eye off the glistening dolphins. They seemed to be having so much fun as they splashed and played, making it look an effortless task to keep pace with the ship. Off in the distance, she thought she even heard one laugh. "They look so happy. I wonder what they're happy about?"

"Why wouldn't they be? They've got the whole ocean. Besides, they're lucky."

"They're lucky?" She lowered the telescope as she turned back to the captain. His pale blue eyes were now fixed on her.

"Aye, indeed. At least they're said to be a good omen." His gaze flickered from her head down her body to her feet and back again. "I've no idea what it means when a woman falls from the sky in a ball of fire, however. Are you going to prove good luck or bad?"


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I want to give a big thank you to those of you who have been reading. I'm considering no longer listing this as a crossover with OUAT. It's not essential that the reader understand the world(s) of OUAT, and they don't need to have previous knowledge of Killian Jones' character for the story to work the way I want it to. Please, let me know what you think!**

* * *

"Captain!" Hook looked up the length of the mast to see the scrawny boy hanging out over the edge of the crow's nest. "Captain, there's a ship in the distance off the starboard bow."

"Give me that spyglass, love." He reached down to take the scope back from the strange girl and put it to his eye as he straightened. Sure enough, there were three masts sticking up from the horizon, the sails luffing in the wind. They shouldn't be doing that, but a poorly sailed ship made for a good mark, so it was good news for him. The _Jolly Roger_ would be on top of them within a matter of hours. Setting his aim, the captain altered course accordingly.

With his prey sighted and crippled, the captain was in high spirits, but it was too quiet on the deck for his liking. Jenny had her hand to her brow, squinting in an attempt to make out the dolphins without the spyglass. Hook chuckled to himself as he thought of a shanty he knew that might rile her. He began to belt out the words, and every man on his crew joined in almost instantaneously.

" _As I was going over the far famed Kerry mountains  
I met with captain Farrell and his money he was counting.  
I first produced my pistol, and then produced my rapier.  
Said stand and deliver, for I am a bold deceiver,_

 _mush a ring a ma dor um dah_  
 _whack for the daddy oh  
whack for the daddy oh  
there's whiskey in the jar_

 _I counted out his money, and it made a pretty penny.  
I put it in my pocket and I took it home to Jenny.  
She said and she swore, that she never would deceive me,  
but the devil take the women, for they never can be easy"_

The ballad went on to tell of how this "Jenny" had betrayed the man, making off with his loot and turning him in. Little redheaded Jenny's eyes went wide as the song went on, just as Hook had hoped. His grin spread and he laughed out loud as the lyrics continued, the shouts rising into the cool air from the throat of every man on deck.

* * *

It took even less time than he'd estimated before they drew in range of the limping ship, and it immediately became obvious why. The captain's grin faded. There was not a single soul aboveboard. No one held her helm, there were no men hauling her ropes or observing from the crow's nest. They saw no one, and yet there was no anchor line holding her in place, either.

"Hold the cannons," he called out to the men on the gun deck of his own ship. "And ready the gangplanks. We're boarding." He handed the wheel over to his first mate as the boards slid into place at his order. He stepped past Jenny to select a few of his crew to accompany him to investigate.

"We're going over there?" She asked.

He turned at that. "We? No, you'll stay here, lass. Might be dangerous."

"No way." Her hands found her hips, and he was painfully reminded of the overpowered gun in her holster. "I can handle danger. I'm curious, so I'm coming with you."

He glanced at the planks stretching between the ships and then back at her. Clearly, she would not make it easy to argue with her, and he didn't feel like wasting the time. Besides, what could possibly go wrong on an empty ship? "Fine. But you follow my lead. You want to stay on my ship, you follow my rules. Anything I tell you to do, you do it, agreed?"

Her whole body stiffened when she frowned. "I used to be a soldier. I know how to blindly follow orders, but I don't do that anymore." She was even more stubborn than he'd thought.

"Then I won't have you with me. My ship, my rules. That's the law here, love." He checked over his shoulder again, anxious to be going.

"Fine," she muttered finally.

He placed his fingers behind his ear, tilting it toward her in a mocking gesture. "What was that, love? I couldn't quite hear you."

"I said _fine_." She huffed, her face reddening. "I can manage for a little while if it means I get to go exploring too. I didn't come all this way to stand by while other people go on adventures."

He shook his head. He didn't have time for this. "Come on, then." When he started walking, she stomped along behind him. "You really think an empty ship is going to be an adventure?"

* * *

The more they investigated, the stranger the ship became. It didn't appear as though any of the lifeboats had been taken in an attempt to escape, but there were no bodies either. All the larders were well-stocked, full of both food and water, though just about everything had long since gone bad. It was as though the ship's entire crew had simply vanished in the middle of a long voyage.

 _Or maybe they jumped into the waves to avoid a worse fate._ The captain tried to shake the thought, but found it wasn't easy. There was an eerie nature to the whole place. Something clearly wasn't right. All the bunks were made up. The hatches were all closed and everything looked to be in order, but there was a half-eaten, rotting plate of food on one of the tables. A bucket of blackened, soapy water sat idle on the deck. They had abandoned the ship in haste.

Jenny pinched her nose as they approached the cargo bay. Something smelled of sickeningly sweet fermentation. Though they were far from land, they could hear the buzzing of flies coming from up ahead, growing louder with every step. Despite the thick soles of his boots, Killian could almost feel the floor vibrating beneath his feet along with the noise. Disgust was creeping up on him as they progressed down the hall.

"I don't think we want to go in there, Mr. Hook." Jenny grabbed at his elbow.

His eyebrows shot up with amusement. "I can't say anyone's ever called me 'Mr.' Hook before. It's 'Captain' if anything." He shrugged her hand off of his arm. His eyebrows shot up and he sought to get a rise out of her again. "Besides, weren't you the curious one looking for adventure? Are you scared now, lass?"

"Absolutely not!" She replied indignantly. "I'll even open it myself."

"No, wait–!" He tried to stop her in time, but she lunged for the door too quickly. Bugs exploded out of the opening. Killian jumped back, covering his face with his forearms. When he peeked between his arms, he couldn't see Jenny. The whole world had gone black with insects.


	5. Chapter 5

Her feet had braced against the floor automatically, but she really wished she hadn't gasped with surprise as the churning black mass had erupted from behind the door. Jenny coughed and sputtered, trying to spit all the tiny winged bodies from her mouth. When she'd done as much as she was able to on that front, she made sure to hold one of her hands over her lips as she spoke, loudly, because she was sure that the insects were crawling into his ears as well as hers.

"What's going on?"

"I'm not sure!" His voice was raised as well, and she still had to struggle to make out his words over the buzzing that engulfed them. "I don't think we want to stick around and find out."

"Yeah, let's get out of here!" She flailed out one of her hands until it smacked against the wall, feeling her way back down the passage the way they had come. The visually impenetrable cloud did not dissipate at all as she navigated her way back to the upper deck from memory. She couldn't see whether the captain was still with her, but she could hear the heavy thumping of his boots on the floorboards just a few feet away from her. Reluctantly, she pushed herself away from the wall that had guided her this far, stretching her arms blindly in front of her. "The ladder should be around here somewhere."

"Right here, love. Follow my voice."

She did as he instructed, and one of her outstretched hands met his. He placed her fingers on one of the splintering wooden rungs and she climbed, hearing him follow close behind. Once they were above in the open air, the press of the insects spread apart. At last, they could see and breathe comfortably again, but they didn't stop moving. His hand grabbed hers and they ran toward where his ship waited obediently. Ignoring the gangplanks, they leaped the short distance.

Before his boots crashed down, Captain Hook was already issuing the command. "Get us out of here, Mr. Smee!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" The portly little man rushed back to the helm, his palm pressing his red knit cap closer to his scalp. Two of the crew who overheard the order tugged the gangplanks back onto the deck as the ship began to steer away from the other vessel.

The bugs were far less incessant here, but were still an all-to-present and highly disturbing annoyance. The captain lifted the edge of his long coat and attempted to wrap her inside it in order to shield her. Jenny pushed him back absentmindedly, pulling the hem of her shirt free from the waistband of her pants and shaking out the bugs that had gotten caught inside. As the rolling surface of the deep stretched further between the two decks, the irritating swarm continued to fade.

Watching the abandoned boat shrink toward the horizon, she could still see the black cloud lingering and billowing around the sails like smoke. "Well that was weird," she muttered, brows furrowed.

Over her shoulder, she heard the captain chuckling. "You certainly have a way with words, lass."

She rolled her eyes. "How did they all fit into that room, though? It looks like they're still pouring out."

His forehead creased as he reached his hand back to scratch at the nape of his neck. "You have me there. That was definitely quite... unusual. I also can't pretend I'm not curious as to the fate of the crew."

"Maybe they all suffocated on bugs," she mumbled before running the pad of her forefinger over her gums, trying not to think too hard about what she felt rubbing against the delicate skin there. She spat a wet glob onto the deck. In her peripheral vision, she saw the captain's face darken in offense, his lips pressing tightly together at the insult. Instantly, she regretted having not leaned over toward the water instead of launching her bodily fluids onto the boards of his boat. _Ship._ "Oh, shoot. I – I didn't – I wasn't – I mean, I'm sorry."

Still eyeing her uncertainly, he nodded slightly. "While you and I may have just nearly met that particular end, I doubt that's what happened to the men aboard that vessel. Even if that were the case, it couldn't be the whole story. If they'd all simply choked on the swarm, the bodies would still have lain where they fell, but there weren't any. Unless of course you're suggesting that this coalition of insects carried the evidence of their sinister undertaking off the ship and into the waves before all gathering in that one room and shutting themselves inside." One of his eyes twinkled over that coy little smirk of his.

Irritation burned on the skin of her face, and she knew it meant she was flushing red. "It wasn't a real theory, you know." She protested in a grumble. "Although I've yet to hear any contributions from you for our brainstorming session here. What do _you_ think happened?"

"Well, it's quite obvious, isn't it?" The cocky arch of his brow made her bristle, her arms folding tightly over her chest as he continued. "There's clearly only a single reasonable explanation here for what has occurred. Can't you see it?" He was teasing her.

She rose to the bait anyway, with an agitated sigh. "Enlighten me."

Aligning his body beside hers, he rested his hook on her shoulder, his hand waving a grandiose gesture through the air before them. "Picture it, if you will. A usual day out on the waters," he began to set the scene in a dry speech, "the crew rising and beginning their morning preparations before resuming their duties. Then, at the appointed time, they all begin to descend the ship's decks, all converging on the hold to perform a routine inventory, all completely forgetting that it's a job for a single man. Leaving all other tasks unattended, even the helm, they all shove into that one room, desperate to know how many barrels of rum remain. I know I would be." He shrugs. "With some effort, the last man manages to wrestle the door shut after squeezing in himself. They're all packed in there so tightly they can't move. When one of them breathes too deeply, they all simultaneously erupt into that seething mass that you and I encountered."

His hand landed on her other shoulder and he spun her to face him, his intense eyes alight and locking onto hers. Jenny studied them, feeling a frown start to fold at her forehead. She started her study in the center of his pupils, working her way out through the steely blue irises (faintly wondering what color hers were, and reminding herself to check later). When she'd examined every muscle from his cheekbones to his hairline, she still couldn't get the read on him that she wanted. His eyes gave away nothing. They were just _dancing_. That was the only word for it.

She took a sharp but measured inhale. "You're suggesting that they just... exploded into-"

"-Bugs." He finished flatly.

Her head tipped to the side involuntarily. She couldn't remember being speechless before. Then, it was so quick she almost questioned seeing it, but no. She did. He'd _winked_ at her. She had been so sure that he was serious! When her brows went up, a dazzling smile cut between his lips. Jenny caught herself blinking at that grin. It was so roguish, and brilliant, and reckless, and charming. It begged forgiveness without issuing apology or making any promise not to reoffend. There was an infinite wealth of trouble there, but not a drop of malice. It was the sort of smile that made her want to grab his hand and run.

She tried to wrestle back the giggles bubbling up from her chest, but they pushed harder and escaped as a snort. The rude sound adding to the hilarity of the moment, she fell into fits of cachinnation. With the heels of her hands, she pushed against his chest playfully.

Impossibly, the captain's smile grew even brighter.


End file.
